Forbidden: Deleted Scenes
by Paint a story. Write a picture
Summary: This is my contest entry to Tabitha Suzuma's fanfiction competition! This is just a few short stories filling in some of the blanks of Forbidden : . Please let me know what you think with a review! :D
1. Kit Comes Home

A/N: I am not Tabitha Suzuma. Tabitha is the amazing author of Forbidden, and this right here is an entry to her fanfiction competition! I didn't really write this for the competition, though, there's just so much that I wanted to fill in. Forbidden is joint first on my list of favourite books, it's an amazing, beautiful, wonderful book, and I enjoyed writing within it a lot :D.

**Kit comes home**

_Lochan_

Maya is sitting with Willa in the lounge, reading with her. Tiffin is wearing out his thumbs on his GameBoy by the sofa. Kit is still out; all is quiet, but this house is too hot, so I swing open the front door and lean against the doorway. I observe the street before me, unnaturally bright sunlight - for this time of year - dancing on the rooftops of the houses nearby, glistening in the field grass. A cool breeze enters the narrow porch, and I close my eyes, soaking up the beauty of this autumn afternoon; just for now, I can pretend that I am a normal teenager, living a normal life, without so much to take care of. Noone would ever make the mistake of assuming I don't love my family, because I do. Well, not Mum, at least, but my brothers and sisters are the only thing that keeps me going in a world where the brightness of today is hard to come by. But it doesn't make it any easier when Tiffin is shouting because there's no chocolate in the house, when Willa bumps her head on the door and cries for ten minutes, when it takes threats and extortion to get the money we need from Mum every week, when Kit stays out for several hours beyond his curfew, getting up to god-knows-what with those "friends" of his...

I open my eyes. To my surprise, there he is in the distance. Four burly figures swagger along beside him as they cross the field, gradually getting closer to the house. Is he actually coming back in the middle of the day? I consider calling out to him, but in the end I decide against it, knowing that he'll only turn in embarrassment, not wanting to follow orders from his brother in front of his mates. So instead, I stand by the door and wait.

He catches sight of me. Slows down. We make eye contact and I can see the indecision written in his maturing face. He turns to the boys and exchanges a few inaudible words, and carries on in the same direction, leaving them behind to return to the only place he can really call home. However screwed up it may be.

"Hey," I say and step aside to let Kit past. He acknowledges me with a brief nod, so I don't try to do anything else, just turn back to the door and smile at the world outside, before shutting and locking it, back to the only place that I can call home either.


	2. Maya's Lesson

**Maya's lesson**

_Maya_

Mr Kozlowski is well known in Belmont for being the only English teacher who isn't actually English, which makes him the source of derision for many of the students. But his command over English is as good as any native, with just a slight lilt to his accent to indicate that he isn't one. He's walking us through Hamlet, only unlike Lochan, who must have every word of that book memorised, I couldn't be any less interested in Shakespeare. Francie is sitting beside me, in a rare streak of silence that I'm surprised has lasted as long as it has; perhaps she too has been bored to death. Then something Mr Kozlowski says catches my attention and makes me lift my head out of my desk:

"One of the themes we see going on throughout the book is incest, and incestuous desire, particularly when it comes to Hamlet's fixation upon Gertrude -"

I pale, but I try to hide it as Francie is sitting up too now, no doubt roused by my sudden alertness. But I can only guess that she didn't notice, because when she turns to me, she just says:

"People were strange back then, huh?"

_Calm down, Maya, don't draw attention to yourself now._ But I can only think of Lochan, all the kisses we have shared behind locked doors, all the times we have longed to touch one another, to hold each other's hand or cuddle one another; and we can't because that's the kind of society we live in, where that kind of thing is an absolute no-go area. Incest is wrong, and that's an unshakable, undoubtable truth - at least, according to society. It's not the kind of thing that has to be taught to us either; evolution has ensured that there is some part of our brains that steers us away from having incestuous thoughts, causes us to blanche at the very idea. And it's this kind of taboo that causes people like Francie, who would never mean harm to anyone, to say things like that. So I can't blame her, I just can't, but I need someone to blame for the force that keeps me apart from the one person I truly love.

I realise I haven't replied to Francie, so I collect myself and say in a low voice back:

"What makes you say that?" Francie is mystified.

"That kind of thing was encouraged back then, wasn't it? You know, people from the same family actually having relationships," she shudders.

"But what if they were actually in love? Shouldn't we just let them be if they're not hurting each other?" I press.

"Eww, no. It's just so fucking weird."

I think back to our conversation a few weeks ago, where she said that if two people are in love then nothing should be allowed to stop them. It hasn't even occurred to her. Nor would it to anyone. But I can't insist the point or she'll start to get suspicious, and when Francie wants to find out something, she'll find it out. So I return to my desk, staring impassively down at the lines and contours of the wood. If there's anything I learned from this lesson, it's that society will never learn, will never listen to reason.


	3. The Happiness of Tiffin

**The happiness of Tiffin**

_Lochan_

Leaves have no uniformity: dead or alive; brown, red or orange; curled or straight; big or small, they decorate the ground in a mural of colour and nature. The gentle autumn breeze sends them through the lazy grass; the trees' offspring joining with the bright greens and emeralds. A red metal frame, groaning and shaking as an excited shape swings back and forth below it. Up, down and back, up, then back down again, and then up again. The wind catches and tousles Tiffin's blond mane as he swings higher and higher, needing only the lightest push from me as encouragement. His face is alight in uncontained joy, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

"Higher, Lochie, higher!" shouts Tiffin, and I oblige, unable to stop myself from smiling too. His happiness is contagious. It's not often that he gets to have this much fun, and I'm just glad I could be here to witness that. But for the dark world he lives in, he still doesn't realise it. He is high in the air, above the happenings of the world below him, unaware of all the shit that lies on the ground.

And I don't want him to come down. In a world where his mother is never around; where his brother Kit is constantly antagonising him; where he never has enough, where his schoolbag is broken and his favourite toys are unusable, childhood innocence is all that can protect him, and even that is slipping away. Tiffin is no longer a little boy. The differences are subtle, but there all the same. An extra inch of height, a longer stride, more maturity. He's growing much faster than I ever would've wanted for him.

All I can do is stand by his side and be there for them through the years to come. For all of them. For Kit, for Willa, for Tiffin... for Maya. Forever.


	4. Easter

**Easter**

_Maya_

My head is blurry as I wake to the chimes of Lochan's voice calling up the stairs. Well aware that the morning rigmarole is about to start, I rub my eyes and, with a phenomenal effort, heave myself out of bed. Then, as I start to walk towards the door, I fully register what Lochan shouted, as he repeats it:

"Wake up, you lot, it's Easter!"

The corner of my mouth lifts in the best smile I can muster at this hour, for Easter has always been an easy day. When Mum was around, she would sometimes be sober enough to go round to the shops and buy chocolate for the kids (usually at the provocation of Lochan and me,) but we have always been good at filling in for that woman.

Except when I go downstairs, I'm blown away. Lochan is standing in the middle of a fairyland. Banners and streamers go from wall to wall; tinsel is thrown around the furniture, candles are lit by the mantlepiece, and dozens of boxes of chocolate line the sofa. I've never seen so much effort go into the mid-season decorations; how much time Lochan must have put into this... I guess that he has read my mind as he sees me, sees my shocked expression, smiles and says,

"Well, the more happy days, the better."

I wrap my arms around him as Tiffin and Willa appear at the bottom of the stairs, enraptured by the sight of what was once a living room.

"Look, Tiffin, look Willa," I turn to them with a grin on my face, "Look what Lochie's done."

"Bit of an effort for Easter," smirks Kit, who appears out of nowhere. But the tone of his voice carries a different message to the words, and I can see that he is just as impressed as we are.

"Come on, guys!" says Lochan, and starts divvying up the various easter eggs, "You can have _one_ now and then breakfast" he says to Tiffin and Willa, who are more than happy to oblige. I expected Kit to saunter off after nicking several of the eggs, but he actually sits down and eats with his siblings, smiling. It's so refreshing to see Kit like this. He's so afraid of being a child again that sometimes I worry he's forgotten how. And then it comes to days like the British Bulldog game, or today, that I realise he hasn't. Beneath the tough-boy exterior is a thirteen year old who is still willing to sit and eat chocolate on Easter morning with his brothers and sisters, to smile and laugh, to join in the fun.

And there's plenty more of that to come! I feel glad that I can take some credit for it when we embark on an Easter Egg hunt, because this was something me and Lochan had actually decided on doing together. It's mostly for the younger two's benefit, but Kit surprises us once again and joins in with the younger two, out looking for birght coloured eggs in the woods beyond the field. Lochan and I weren't going to go too easy on them with our egg hunt, but we made sure that Willa could reach all the eggs, so most of them were hidden in bushes, piles of leaves, or the odd low hollow tree.

Willa's exultant cries of "I found one, I found one!" just add to the music of a beautiful day; I could stay in these woods with Kit, Tiffin, Willa and Lochan for hours and not get bored or tired.

Kit is watching Willa and Tiffin, so I give Lochan a meaningful look and disappear into the trees. He follows without question. When he comes, I give him another hug, much longer and more meaningful than the last, my words buried in his shoulder.

"Lochan, you made a wonderful day for everyone," I mumble.

"You helped too, silly," he smiles, ruffling my hair. I scowl and try to straighten it, but this just makes him laugh, and I can't pretend to be annoyed for long, so I laugh with him. We fold into yet another embrace, and suddenly... the beautiful day, the atmosphere, the fun of the egg hunt... it all just makes me want to be closer to Lochan. Only after checking that we're considerably out of sight do I take the risk and pull away, before meeting his lips with mine. Lochan is hesitant, torn, well aware that the kids could walk through at any moment, but he gives in. Only for a few seconds, and when he tears away, I want more, much more. But I am rational enough to know that we can't go on, not here, not in the middle of the woods, with the kids just on the other side of the trees. Our eyes communicate all this; it doesn't need to be spoken aloud.

"Come on," he grins. "Let's get back to the guys!"

_Kit_

I've been clean for a week now. But when I see it, I can't help wondering if I really did take the weed Ed offered me, because what I'm seeing here isn't rational, it isn't right. It doesn't make any sense. It can't be happening, it just can't. My eyes are playing tricks. I'm stoned, stoned out of my head. For if I'm to accept what I just saw through the cracks in the woods, then my brother and sister just kissed one another.


	5. Reveal

**Reveal**

_Maya_

I place one foot in front of another. This is the way to keep moving. The only way to keep moving. Some part of my brain - lodged near the back - registers the searing heat on my exposed skin, the stares and whispers of the people giving me a wide berth. But they don't make a fucking difference. Everyone is the same. They stand at a respectable distance away from you, not sure what to say until the awkwardness becomes too much and they leave. Usually this follows the same words of sympathy, again and again. _"I'm so sorry, Maya" "That must be so hard, Maya" "I know how you feel, Maya."_ How could they? How could _anyone_ right now know what I feel? But the one that really makes me want to smash my head against the wall is "_Are you okay?"_. As if it isn't written on every part of me in indelible ink, as if it isn't etched into the lines of my face or reflected from the grey that is my skin. All this sympathy, when all I want is for them to leave me alone.

Now I start to understand how he fel-

_No. No, don't you dare_, I tell my mind angrily, warding off the memories like a hornet's nest ready to swarm me with all the pain, sadness and anger in the world. Whenever I feel it coming in my head, I blank my mind, block out everything and everyone. I may not be ready to think his name for years to come, if ever.

Teachers give me as wide a berth as the students. I do a bare minimum of work, but if I stop suddenly in mid-sentence and don't pick up my pen for the rest of the lesson, nobody comments. The teachers are wise enough to keep their eyes away from me. The students aren't.

_Maya Whitely. The girl whose brother died._ How little they know.

A voice penetrates through the fog. A girl's voice.

"Hey," she says, and I need no invitation to step into her arms, locking myself in her tight embrace, drawing the warmth from her unspoken comfort. Francie isn't offering me mindless sympathy, but the kind of protection from my own head that I need, and so I muster up enough energy to mutter a thank you into her shoulder. Again she doesn't respond, nor does she need to.

We find a seat at the edge of the grounds, a bench sitting in front of a row of berries that are long out of season. We are well away from the throngs of students, it is almost quiet here, for which I'm also grateful. I lean on her shoulder and she keeps an arm around me, warding away the evil in the air, and warding away any students who tried to come near with a glare.

"Do you want to talk?" she asks, and that simple question is when I break down. I can't hold it in any longer.

"I loved him, Francie," I say in a voice too weak from crying.

"I know, I know..."

"No," I choke, "you don't. I _loved_ him. He - he was the only person that - that meant anything to me in the world. He was more than my b-brother, m-more than my best friend, he was -" I am barely coherent any more but every word is forced out of my body like a demon that has been held in for too long. "He was the love of my life."

I expect Francie to be repulsed, to move away from me and relinquish her arm. I expect question after question to tumble out of her mouth faster than I can understand. I expect her nose and eyebrows to wrinkle as she processes what I am saying. None of these things happen, instead, something completely unexpected and miraculous.

"I know," she says with an authority and finality that I have never before heard from my friend. And then with an easy smile: "I'm not stupid, you know."

I'm dumbstruck. There is no way that Francie can be serious. She must just be being supportive for my sake. But she seems to be reading my mind.

"I'm not saying this because I think it's what you want to hear, but, Maya, I guessed a long time ago. I just didn't want to let on to anyone."

"And it doesn't bother you _at all?_" I ask incredulously, the tears fading from my eyes, instead, utter respect for my best friend.

"Okay, yes, a little, but I've thought about it a lot since the last conversation we had... and... well... now that I saw how much he meant to you, it bothers me a lot less."

I wrap my arms around Francie tightly, for with her message, there is hope. If at least one person can go from disgust to understanding, then maybe the rest of the world will one day follow.

And just that once, safe under Francie's protection, I allow myself to think his name, the name of my love.

Lochan.


	6. Questions

**Questions**

_Maya_

I don't know how long it's been since... well, since. Months, maybe, but the end of the year is approaching far faster than I'd like. The final exams will be the ones that get me a college place, and the teachers are finally starting to lose sympathy in classes and getting me to do work. The pain hits home like a sledgehammer in the chest all the time, but I'm already learning ways of hiding it. Dealing with it properly is about as feasible as making the Moon orbit the other way with only a feather at my disposal. But if I feel tears coming now, I can stop them, and if I feel a panic attack coming, I cut myself off from the rest of the world, sever every good or bad feeling and lie until it passes. I know people still talk about me all the time, I don't care. I've long since gotten used to the stares and whispers. Only the new people treat me like a human being and not a plague victim, and they are few and far between.

Declan Moore has only been here for a few months, though, having moved in from Ireland, and I find myself sat next to him now. He could have been Lochan's first proper friend; the only person outside of our family that Lochan managed to have a proper conversation with. I can see why, just looking at him. The way he pores over the reams of paper at his desk just reminds me of the feverish way that Lochan would work in the evenings, and Declan is as high a flyer as Lochan was. Is, I remind myself.

From the way Declan keeps glancing over at me, I can tell there are many words burning on his lips. So I turn from the sketchy scrawl on my desk to face the lanky Upper Sixth boy beside me and say in a hushed voice "You were his friend."

He nods noncommittally, but then says "Yes" aloud more awkwardly than I'm sure was intended. I have nothing in common with this boy, and so have no idea what to say next, until Declan quickly supplies the conversation.

"Can I - can I ask you something... Maya, is it?"

"I guess," I shrug, unsure if I like where this is going. There is a long pause before he finally says,

"Was he... happy? Before, you know?"

I think back to the magical day we spent before everything went to hell and shattered into a thousand pieces. Which one counts? The reply that eventually comes out of my mouth is

"Yes... he was happy."

"I w-was..." for such an apparently intelligent person, he sure as hell pauses a lot, "I was really upset when I heard... you know, it was... I had finally made a friend... it was hard news to hear."

I shoot him a look that we both understand means "Oh really, _you_ found it hard?" The silence that follows the death of that conversation is uncontainable.

_Maya_

I didn't know if they would ever ask. I guessed it would have to come eventually, but it's only been a year or two. Life has moved on without him. Tiffin has started at Belmont; Kit is working a paper round every morning; I'm starting college. I made sure to find a college as close to home as I could get, or Kit, Tiffin and Willa will have no one to look after them. But there is less now to look after. Tiffin is already blooming into teenhood; Kit bordering on young adult already at the age of fifteen; Willa has never been demanding in the first place. But now the younger kids are less young, the time when they would ask is getting shorter. Kit has known ever since he died. Willa and Tiffin have had their suspicions, but they recognised my fragility and left the subject alone for a long time. Eventually their curiosity was going to get the better of them.

So when I pick up Tiffin from school and he doesn't greet me with the customary hello, it's something I've long been expecting.

Later on that evening, we sit down in the lounge together, all four of us, and I turn to Tiffin, who I know will be the first to speak. We are all aware this won't be a casual discussion, and Kit stares at his younger brother curiously, appearing to genuinely not know what's coming.

"Did you and Lochie love each other... like Mum and Dad once loved each other?" he says eventually. I lean forward in my chair with my hands upon my knees, and I put on the face I use to try and explain the unexplainable.

"Yes, Tiffin, Lochie and I did love each other. We loved each other very much, and that's why it was so hard to say goodbye to him," I say softly, and I see Tiffin battle with various emotions - anger, disgust, clarity, relief - now that his suspicions have been confirmed.

"But...why?" he says after a minute or two of thought.

"That's hard to explain, Tiff... people love each other for very different reasons, and I guess with me and Lochie it was because we grew up together, were always together, always there for one another. We always had each other. That's why I loved him, and that's why he loved me."

"But you're not allowed to love your brother or sister," pipes up Willa, and now she is the one to frown. I open my mouth to interject, but Kit gets there first.

"People think that it's wrong, Willa, but they're the ones who are wrong." My jaw drops; Kit will never cease to amaze me with his newfound conscience. He smiles encouragingly at me. Only now Tiff is starting to put the other pieces of the puzzle together.

"You knew?" He says to Kit. "You knew all this time?" Kit nods briefly but says nothing else. I place a hand on Tiff's arm reassuringly: "Kit found out a while ago. It was an accident, we never meant him to know." Tiff takes his arm away, suddenly angry again.

"Why didn't you say anything if you knew?" His voice is rising, and I really don't want an argument on my hands.

"Do you see what Lochan's death did to Maya, Tiff?" growls Kit. "Yeah, we were all upset, but it was Maya who was hit the hardest. Did you really want me to bring incest into the equation, when A: you were at that age, and B: Maya was... well, out of it?" He finishes, embarrassed. Tiff falls silent, unable to put a word against Kit's arguments.

Willa is now staring intently at each of us in turn, as if trying to read the situation from our faces, to make sense of it all. She has a right to know about me and Lochan and I would never take that away from her, but she is still too young for any of this.

And as if fate mocks my prejudice, that is when she speaks again and challenges the very notion that she is too young for anything.

"Were you and Lochie happy together?"

I think to a long time ago, when I sat in a classroom with a friend of Lochan's and answered a similar question. Only this time, there was no hesitation whatsoever when I answered my little sister.

"Yes, Willa. We were the happiest."

A/N: This was an entry to the wonderful Ms. Suzuma's fanfiction contest for Forbidden. I didn't realise this was going to be as long as it was, but the more I wrote, the more I _needed_ to dedicate time to the characters of Forbidden. There was just so much to fill in! I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoyed reading it! Lots of love, from Paint a Story, Write a Picture :).


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